Halloween Is a Harsh Mistress
by ShinyAeon
Summary: It's Halloween in Pallet Town, and Professor Oak, Delia Ketchum, and Tracey are joining the festivities.  But the Professor isn't so sure about his costume... Now with Chapter 2!
1. Professor Oak vs His Costume

**Halloween is a Harsh Mistress**  
_by _ShinyAeon

A costume on Halloween, Professor Oak thought, _should_ reflect something about its wearer; some hidden side of his nature, something that was allowed to come out only once a year. And, after the age of fifty, it should also retain some shred of dignity. No one liked an overaged goofball.

_None_ of which explained why he was currently dressed in a blue spandex unitard which was bulging with comically oversized foam-rubber muscles. The matching blue hood (with lantern-jaw extension) was topped by two segmented antennae which bobbed unevenly.

How, Professor Oak wondered feebly, was he supposed to be dignified dressed as someone named "the Tick?" Honestly. That was something you picked out of a Growlithe's fur with tweezers...

_Come on, Samuel, try to get into the spirit of fun._

Oak put his hands on his hips and stood up straight, giving a megawatt-level heroic grin.

His reflection grinned cheesily back at him.

Instantly, Samuel deflated. He looked _ worse_ than an overaged goofball. He looked like...an overaged goofball with virility issues.

And, of course, now it was much too late to find a replacement costume, Professor Oak thought. He was going to have to brazen it out. And someone was going to pay for this.

That someone was currently knocking on the door.

"Professor?" Tracey said. "You ready yet?"

Samuel sighed. "Come in," he said, knowing he didn't have the heart to inflict revenge on his well-meaning assistant. He never did.

Tracey entered, and Samuel immediately forgave him. The boy looked almost as silly as Samuel did, wearing a white unitard and an arrangement of white straps holding what seemed to be white Venomoth wings. Two ridiculously long, flat antennae curled up from his head, twisted into quizzical asymmetry, and what looked like two halves of an oversized ping-pong ball hung over his eyes on a strap as goggles.

"What do you think, Professor?" Tracey said, holding out his arms.

"Can you see through those?" Samuel asked, looking at the white goggle-eyes.

"Not a thing!" Tracey said cheerfully. "I'm gonna have to only wear them at strategic moments."

Tracey, however, didn't have any embarrassing foam-rubber muscles to contend with, Samuel thought. Tracey actually looked quite good in the leotard—a little bit thin, with the slightly rawboned look of one who hasn't quite grown into his frame yet, but not embarrassing by any means for a boy his age.

"That thing looks good on _you_," Samuel said, a little peevishly.

At once, Tracey sagged. "I know," he said, sounding disappointed. "I thought it would have padding, like yours. I tried to get a false stomach when I found out, but all they had were fake pregnancy stomachs, and that would be way TOO big. And all my pillows just looked silly."

Samuel recalled from the cartoon Tracey had forced him to watch for "research" that Tracey's character, Arthur, was a dumpy little guy. Why a teenage boy would WANT to wear a costume that looked dumpy was beyond him, but he had to give Tracey credit for attempted authenticity.

He glanced in the mirror at himself again, trying to see his own costume in a similar light.

No. Just, _no_.

"I'm not sure about _my_ costume..." he began. Maybe it wasn't too late. There was always the old eyeholes-in-a-sheet thing...

"Here, lemme see..." Tracey lifted his ping-pong goggles up to his forehead.

Then he exploded in laughter, doubling over with the force of it.

"That's it, I'm wearing something else." Samuel began trying to reach the back zipper.

"N-No, Professor!" Tracey was upright in a second, though he to keep his hand clamped over his mouth to keep from laughing. He spoke muffledly from behind it. "It's—*_snort!* _ It's _supposed_ to be funny! You look great!"

"I feel like an idiot," Professor Oak whined. Worse, he _knew_ he was whining.

"The Tick IS an idiot," Tracey said reasonably, his laughter under control at last. "That's why it's so funny for _you_ to dress up as _him._"

Samuel thought that he ought to be complimented, as apparently the monumental stupidity of the character was intended to contrast to his own alleged monumental intelligence, but it was hard to feel like a world-renown 'genius' while looking like a Muppet on steroids.

Still, if he backed out now, Tracey would be terribly disappointed. And Halloween was, after all, a holiday for young people.

He gave up. But... "Do the shoes have to be this high?"

"The Tick is supposed to be really tall," Tracey said, squatting to inspect the platform "boots" he'd cobbled together from a worn-out old pair of the Professor's work boots, two wooden blocks, and some blue paint. "But I figured any higher than two inches and you might not be able to walk in them. Do they feel okay? I used the strongest epoxy to stick the bases on, and I added a layer of rubber to the bottoms to make them stable. But if you think you'll have trouble, we can ditch them. No costume is worth you getting hurt."

Hearing that was a bit of a relief, and it made Samuel feel generous. "Oh, I feel steady enough in them. It just feels...odd. You don't think people will laugh at me, do you?"

"Only in the good way," Tracey reassured him.

Could there be a good way? Professor Oak was doubtful. "Unitard," he muttered, plucking at the spandex-and-foam rubber on his thigh. "Something tells me the operant part of that word is 'tard.'"

Tracey cracked up again, grabbing the corner of the Professor's dresser to stay upright. "Oh, man, Professor," he said when he'd recovered, "I can't believe you even _said_ that!" His eyes shone with humor and admiration.

At least, Samuel hoped it was admiration. "Well, then, let's be on our way, shall we...er, 'chum?'" And he did the hero pose and cheesy grin again.

This time, he was _certain_ his assistant cracked up in admiration. What the hell, he thought, close enough. It's Halloween.

* * *

Downstairs they were greeted by Delia Ketchum, wearing a long-sleeved coat. "Bulbasaur let me in," she said, and clasped her hands as she saw them. "Oh, you both look _wonderful!_ Almost as good as on the live-action version!"

Had everyone heard of this "Tick" thing before except him, Samuel wondered?

"I'm a little too skinny for Arthur, though," Tracey said, shrugging.

"Oh, nonsense, you look darling, Tracey," she said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Mrs. Ketchum," he said with a modest blush.

She turned to Samuel. "And Professor, you look perfect—_very_ heroic," she said.

Coming from her, he had to believe it. Delia didn't have a sardonic bone in her body. (Some people, who didn't know any better, believed she didn't have an _intelligent_ bone in her body, but Samuel, for whom she'd been an assistant when she was younger, was not one of them. But Delia's mother had been very old-fashioned, and had raised her not to display her intelligence if she could help it; .)

"Why, thank you, Delia," he said, and did a slightly theatrical bow. "But, don't you have a costume?"

She grinned. "Oh, yes. I just finished it before I got here, in fact. Just...close your eyes for a second, both of you."

They did so. Samuel heard her take her coat off and lay it aside, then a sound like cardboard rustling.

"Okay!"

Samuel opened his eyes. And stared.

Tracey's reaction was more immediate. "Oh, wow, you did it! You look _great,_ Mrs. Ketchum!"

"Thank you, Tracey!" she said. She wore a sleeveless dark blue minidress, with a red-and-white striped frilly apron, a star-spangled cardboard headdress, long white gloves, and black pumps.

She turned around, showing it off. "I already had the shoes and the gloves, all I had to do was shorten this old dress and make the apron and head thing here. Mimey added the stars and the lace trim." She turned towards Samuel. "Well, Professor? Do I make a good 'American Maid?'"

Samuel managed to peel his tongue off the roof of his mouth. _She's young enough to be your daughter, Oak-try not to be a dirty old man as well as a goofball._ "Quite good, Delia. I was just...wondering if you might not be a little, er, cold in that."

"Nope!" she said. She gestured at her legs, which Samuel suddenly realized were covered in flesh-colored tights. "These are actually Mareep wool. I've also got on my thermal underwear _and_ bloomers, and another pair of gloves on under these. Oh, and look!" She dug in the pocket of her coat. "I brought an extra shoe to throw!"

"You shouldn't need that, Mrs. K," Tracey said, though he looked impressed. "We're not doing actual cosplay—but it was a cool idea! But it's almost dark—shouldn't we get going, Professor?"

"Yes, I imagine things will be starting soon." He still felt dreadfully self-conscious. "You know, perhaps I ought to stay here, to give out candy. I heard the Mayor's assistant say they had more than enough adults signed up..."

"Oh, nonsense, Professor!" Delia said. "Bulbasaur and Bayleef and Totodile and everyone are all excited about giving out candy themselves. Besides, wait until you see _their_ costumes!" She stuffed her "stunt shoe" in a bag she had with her (navy blue with little silver stars—it looked like it had come from a thrift shop) and beckoned them out the front door.

Samuel threw a questioning glance at Tracey. _Costumes?_ he mouthed.

Tracey shrugged, looking equally bewildered.

As they all descended the long stairs to the front gate, Delia said, "Maybe I went a little overboard, but I was looking through Ash's old costumes to find something for Mimey, and thought, why not?"

"Bay, Bay!" came the cheery greeting as Bayleef waved one vine whip at them. She wore a little white, fluffy halo, poking just above her leaf, and a little pair of white feathered wings just above the circle of green pods that ringed the base of her neck.

Tracey and Professor Oak complimented her, and Delia, on the "costume." "I remember when Ash wore this," Samuel said. "He was three, wasn't he?"

"Two," Delia said with a wistful little smile. "By the time he was three, he wouldn't let me put him in anything that girly. But he really did make such a perfect little angel!"

Tracey grinned. "You don't say."

Samuel could almost see the boy's mind turning over a few blackmail opportunities. Knowing that Tracey was, like Samuel himself, more inclined to just _imagine_ being devious than to actually go through with it, Professor Oak didn't worry much. "I remember now, he was a vampire or something when he was three."

"Zorro, actually," Delia said, "but the hat was falling apart, so...well, see!" She laughed as Totodile popped up in a familiar little high-collared black cape and eyemask. While it wasn't clear exactly what the Big Jaw Pokémon was portraying, the effect was cuter than a Hallmark Halloween card, and Totodile was obviously enjoying itself in the outfit.

They greeted the rest of the Pokémon assembled to hand out treats—not all of Ash's crowd, just the ones who apparently thought it might prove interesting. Bulbasaur was in charge, in a small white ten-gallon hat, with a "gunbelt" slung round the base of its bulb, and a sheriff's star hanging from the top of its bulb on a green ribbon. Ash's Sceptile was also present, leaning back against one of the gateposts with a black scarf/mask over its head, a toy sword on a belt, and another black cloak—Tracey correctly guessed the costume as the "Man in Black" from _The Princess Bride._ The twig in its mouth wasn't strictly part of the costume, but certainly added to Sceptile's nonchalant badass air.

Noctowl perched atop one gatepost with a purple wizard's hat balanced on its head, and on the other post Swellow had devised its own costume, apparently getting one of the neighborhood Horsea to cover it with ink, pretending to be the Raven. (Samuel wondered aloud how the plaster bust of Edgar Allen Poe from his library had gotten down to the gate, and Tracey scratched his head sheepishly.)

"Everyone looks splendid," Samuel said.

"Now you all have fun," Delia said to the Pokémon. "If you start to run out of candy, just send someone to get some more from Mimey. Oh-" she stopped, and frowned. Stepping forward, she skidded a little on the flagstones, her heel sinking between two of them. She flailed for balance.

Samuel instinctively seized her arms, pulling her up and steadying her. "Careful! What's wrong?"

She grimaced as she looked around. "Someone's missing...where's Corphish?"

Several of the Pokémon gestured back toward the heavy brush. Unnecessarily, as it turned out – a moment later, Corphish emerged, looking excited beneath an astronaut's space-helmet that balanced precariously on its three red horns. "Corpheesh, Corpheesh!" it cried as it scuttled toward them.

Corphish, Samuel noted, was running a little too fast. He was about to say that there was no hurry, it should slow down and be careful, when he got an uneasy feeling.

Just then, Tracey cried, "Look out, Professor! It looks like-"

"CorPHEEEESH!" Corphish came flying directly at Samuel, swinging one massive claw.

The next thing he knew, he was flying backward. Oddly enough, the thought that crossed his mind was _But the Tick doesn't fly. This is out of charac—_

_WHACK!_

Samuel hit the fence post hard enough to make little lights flash before his eyes, then flumped to the ground.

"_Professor!_"

"Sam!"

Tracey and Delia were at his side in an instant. All the Pokémon launched a cacophony of scolding at a confused Corphish.

"I'm all right," Samuel said, sitting up. His shoulder ached a bit and his head smarted, but the impact had been less severe than he'd have thought. "It's not that bad, really."

"That's cause Noctowl put its wings down to cushion your head from the bricks," Tracey said, his face creased in worry. "Good thinking, Noctowl," he said to the flying Pokémon above.

"Whooo, whooo," Noctowl replied modestly.

"No, Corphish—come right back here this minute." Delia said in the no-nonsense voice she used to use on Ash when he was acting up. "Now you just apologize to Professor Oak. Why ever would you do such a thing in the first place?"

"Pheesh?" Corphish exclaimed, and trotted over. As soon as Corphish's eyes locked on his, the Pokémon reared back in alarm. "Pheesh, Corpheesh!" At once it began to dance around frantically on its pointy little feet, waving claws and chittering its name. It finished by flopping on its belly, covering its eyes with its claws and bursting into tears.

"I...think Corphish didn't recognize you, Professor," Tracey said. "And when you caught Mrs. Ketchum, it might have thought you were some stranger attacking her."

"Pheesh, pheesh!" Corphish said, uncovering its eyes and doing the closest thing to a nod a Pokémon with no neck could.

"Well, it was an honest mistake," Samuel said, grinning, as his younger friends helped him get up. "I don't _feel_ much like myself at the moment. What was that line again, Tracey...? 'Gravity is a harsh mistress.'" Oh, it's all right, Corphish, I'm fine." And, barring a few sore spots and a tinge from his lower back, he was.

"Are you sure?" Delia frowned, brushing brick-dust off his costume. "That looked like a very solid impact. You can see all right, can't you? You're not feeling dizzy or anything?"

"No, no," Samuel said easily, turning and taking her hand (stopping her from brushing him off any further- that was having a more disturbing effect on his equilibrium than any number of impacts). "I get far worse most days working with the Pokémon in the lab."

"That's right," Tracey said, "the Professor is like a magnet for Pokémon attacks, but he's always okay. Jonathan told me that Professor Birch calls him 'The Indestructible.'" Tracey started to laugh a little, but swallowed it as Samuel directed a _look _at him. "Oh, I mean, uh...I'll shut up now." And with that mutter, he ducked back to the other side of his foam-padded boss.

Delia was looking up at him with a little startled concern. "Is it that bad, Professor?"

Samuel gave her hand a quick, paternal pat and released it. "Not quite. But occasional accidents _are_ a natural consequence of working with Pokémon. Don't worry, Delia, I've been doing it all my life, and I'm still hale and hearty. Besides, I think an Onix could bodyslam me now without much effect." He plucked at his foam-rubber bicep.

That made both of his companions laugh, as well as some of the Pokémon.

"Well, if you're sure you're okay, then we should get going," Delia said.

They said goodbye to the Pokémon again (Samuel added an extra "thank you" to Noctowl and reassurances to Corphish). Then they walked out of the gate, into the lane.

Samuel gallantly offered his arm, and Delia giggled and slipped her hand through it. When Tracey tried to drop behind them, she snagged his arm and pulled him forward to walk at her other side. "No you don't," she said with a grin, "It's not often I have _two_ handsome heroes to escort me."

Heroes? Samuel didn't feel much like a hero. He felt like a middle-aged man who ought to know better than to mess with a young person's holiday. Halloween was proving to be a bigger challenge than he had thought.

But he was committed, and he had to see it through. After all, Samuel thought as they walked into the deepening dusk, he was a _hero_ now-and that's what heroes did.

* * *

To be continued...

* * *

Well, I got part one up by Halloween, by any rate! Caveat: my speed at updating is erratic, but I do have most of the rest plotted out in my head. Hey, it's my first multi-chapter story-woo hoo!


	2. Professor Oak vs the Madding Crowd

Part 2

Pallet glowed in the ruddy light of dusk, a small town painted in harvest colors, as Professor Oak, Delia and Tracey reached its heart. Strings of orange paper lanterns shone like myriad echoes of the setting sun, and a dozen carved pumpkins spread their fiery smiles over heaps of their uncarved fellows that clustered around Masae's Market, where the festivities were being organized.

And all around the building (and spreading out past several buildings nearby) there were dozens—no, _hundreds_—of children in costume.

"Oh my," Delia said as the trio slowed, "there are a lot more than I expected."

"I didn't know there were this many kids even _living_ in Pallet Town," Tracey said.

"There aren't," Samuel said dryly.

There were only a few hundred people living in Pallet Town; Perhaps a third of them were children, and of those, half were old enough to be out on their journeys. There were always some kids who gave up training, came back home and resumed going to school—Samuel did see some taller kids in costume, on the edges of the multitude-but there were, at the very most, just under a hundred pre-ten-year-olds living in Pallet Town at any one time.

This crowd looked like five or six times that number.

"Is it always like this...?" Tracey asked. Though he'd been in Pallet for over two years, he'd always missed the Halloween celebrations due to some crisis or another at the lab (one reason Samuel had acquiesced to Tracey's choice of costume was a vague, lingering guilt about that).

Delia giggled. "We _have_ always gotten some families from nearby towns coming in, but I don't think we had half this many last year!" She smiled and explained, "Pallet's held a Halloween party for the children since I was a girl, but we've only done Trick or Treat events since Ash was five or six; it was one of the Mayor's ideas to boost business."

"It sure looks like it worked," Tracey said, his voice awestruck—if not a little fearful.

Samuel could understand that. Living in a small town, it was easy for a man to forget just how chaotic large numbers of people could be. It seemed like the entirety of Pallet's small center was a prismatic ocean of people in costume: milling and moving around, flowing back and forth in multiple streams, breaking into little eddies that circled slowly around some obstacle before flowing on. Small groups created little islands of stability around landmarks—trees, the public address system poles, and the staircases of locked buildings, but they were scattered and few.

The fact that the majority of the multitude were under four feet in height didn't really lessen the impact of so many, many people.

"It looks like the restaurant's doing well, at least," Delia said. She was business manager—and part owner—of Pallet's small diner, and usually worked there from 5 A.M. to noon or so, totaling up the previous day's receipts and other paperwork (which was the reason she hadn't been home to help wake Ash on the morning he began his journey). "Oh wait—Yukio's waving at me." Yukio was the other owner and head cook, who, with his daughter and son-in-law, handled the rest of things there.

"He can see you from way over there...?" Samuel said, incredulous. He could barely see Yukio, waving from the lighted doorway of the little yellow-painted house the restaurant occupied.

"He must need me for something...I'd better go over and check," she said. Withdrawing her arms from theirs, Delia nodded toward Masae's Market. "Go ahead, I'll meet you down there."

A little disappointed at the sudden coolness where her arm had been resting comfortably, Samuel asked, "Will you be able to find us again, in this?"

Delia cast a glance upward, over his and Tracey's heads, and gave a small, amused smile. "I think I'll manage." Then she strode off through the crowd.

Samuel blinked at Tracey.

"Antennae," Tracey reminded him.

_Oh, yes_. Samuel reached up and touched one of his short, bendy head-appendages. Apparently there were some advantages to being a tall blue insect.

However, he noticed something disturbing...most of the other adults within this largely-underage crowd were dressed in normal street clothes.

It figured.

Well, no help for it now. Samuel straightened his shoulders and prepared to meet the stares of his fellow grown-ups with as much aplomb as he could manage.

He couldn't help noticing the reactions, though. There was young Naomi, from the library, hiding a laugh behind a polite hand; Ken and Leah, his old school friends, doing a bewildered double-take; and Mrs. Suzuki, who led the Chamber of Commerce, pursing her lips and sniffing.

To all except the disapproving Mrs. Suzuki, Samuel gave a wave or serene nod, acting as if it were perfectly normal to stroll about like a big, blue idiot. He found himself sticking as close to Tracey as he could, though; accurately, if cravenly, making sure the blame for this foolishness would lie with his teenage assistant.

But his reception among the younger crowd was somewhat better. A group of children in matching Clefairy costumes suddenly looked at Samuel with bright recognition. Then they all held up their right fists and yelled "Spoooooon!"

Feeling another sweat drop forming on his temple, Samuel waved at them—changing it to a more in-character salute halfway through.

This began a serenade of "Spoooons" that accompanied them as they wended their way through the throng, each cry drawn out for a long as any given child had breath. Samuel nodded and salute/waved as heroically as he could, though he could feel himself beginning to blush. "What's the 'spoon' thing again...?" he asked Tracey

"Your battle cry," Tracey said, matter-of-factly.

_Oh. Of course_. Knowing he was probably better off not asking further, but doing it anyway, he said, "Er, why is 'Spoon' my battle cry again...?"

Tracey, who was trying to politely negotiate their way across two opposing streams of people, gave him an amused glance. "Because the Tick's..."

"...an idiot," Samuel finished in unison with him, with a wry grin. "How could I forget?" Despite his increasing personal embarrassment, he gave a creditable heroic grin to another "Spoooooon" chorus.

"We're lucky," Tracey said, trying to gauge the right moment to cross the flows of humanity (looking like nothing so much as someone trying to join a jump-rope game in progress). "If that cable station wasn't running that block of Western cartoons right now, not _nearly_ as many people would recognize our costumes!"

Oh, joy.

A figure with pale pointed fox-ears perched amid caramel-brown curls suddenly stepped in his path, causing a mild collision that Samuel couldn't quite avoid. He steadied the obviously female person, saying, "I'm terribly sorry, Miss..."

"Oops! Pardon me…oh! Professor Oak!" The teenage girl in the Ninetails gijinka costume stopped, looked him over, and giggled. "Cuuuute!" she declared Samuel's costume. She poked him in his foam-rubber washboard stomach. "Nice abs, there, Mr. Professor, Sir."

"They're rented," Samuel responded, unfazed, "but thank you, Gillian." Gillian Tahara was a friend of his granddaughter, Mae (currently off at breeder's college); he'd known her since she was in kindergarten, and had given her her first Pokemon. Gillian was one of those young trainers who'd spent just a few months on her journey before returning home; in her case, it was partly to help her mother, who'd given birth to Pallet Town's first (and so far only) set of triplets. "It's good to see you," Samuel said. "How is your Ivysaur doing?"

"Oh, fine," Gillan said, waving her hand. "Rosebud's afraid of little kids—who wouldn't be, after living with the Terror Triplets—so he's hiding out in my room tonight." She cast a look beyond Samuel. "Hey there, Tracey. Lookin' good."

Tracey, Samuel was amused to note, was blushing rather blatantly. "Uh—hi, Gill," he said quietly. "You look r-really nice."

"Thank you!" Then she grabbed the two of the fluffy, cream-colored tails hanging behind her, lifted them like a skirt and curtseyed. Then put her hands on her hips and tilted her head at the two of them. "Well, I don't know what you guys are, but you look pretty spiffy anyway!"

At last, someone else as clueless as he was. "We're the Tick and Arthur—superhero and sidekick, I believe," Samuel said, casting a confirming glance at his own sidekick.

"It's, uh, a Western cartoon," Tracey stammered. "It's…on at two-thirty," he finished in a mutter, and promptly lapsed back into the silence he'd fallen into since the girl appeared.

Gillian nodded politely. "The Bratlets will recognize it, no doubt," she said.

Samuel grinned. "If we run into them, I'm sure they will."

The teenager's smile became pained. "Well…I have some bad news about that…."

"Oh?" Samuel said, then realized. "Oh, no—you don't mean—"

Gillian nodded with an apologetic look. "I'm really sorry, Professor. I was helping Masae assign the escorts, and you got the 'lucky' number."

Samuel felt a sinking dread. The Tahara Triplets might be the pride of local motherhood in a community sense, but as actual six year olds, they were the terror of the town. Leading them on a Trick-or-Treat expedition was likely to be a challenge indeed. Even Tracey knew what they were getting into; his blush had given way to a wan version of his usual pleasant grin.

"..._really_ sorry I can't herd them myself," Gillian was saying, "but I twisted my ankle yesterday and Mom wants me to stay off it as much as I can. I did get them to promise to be on their best behavior, such as it is. In compensation, we only gave you three of the out-of-towners to look after. The other volunteers are averaging four kids to one adult."

In desperation, Samuel nearly pointed out that Tracey was not yet an adult, but stopped himself just in time. There was no need to humiliate his assistant like that; the cosmic forces that had arranged this year's Halloween had obviously decided to amuse themselves by giving Samuel a heroic task to match his heroic guise.

"I'm sure we'll manage," Samuel lied bravely.

Gillian smiled in apology. "Just bring'em back alive, and Mom will bless the next six generations of your family. After the trouble they caused at last year's toddler's party..." she shook her head, leaving the triplets' crime to their imaginations, "well, let's just say she's glad to have them out of her hair for one night." She sighed and held out an orange paper sack. "I brought you a survival kit. It's got Taro's inhaler, make him use it if he starts wheezing. Tori's glasses are in the hard case, but don't make her wear them unless she seriously starts bumping into things—she's unhappy with her costume already. There's a little pill box with an alarm on it; when it beeps, make Tenji take his Ritalin capsule. Threaten to come get _me_ if he argues," she added with a fierce smirk. "I put in an antihistamine tablet for allergic reactions—peanuts make Tori break out in hives, so try to watch what they're getting if you can—and some chewable stomach stuff for all of them in case they eat themselves sick. I threw in a few aspirin for you guys, too," she added.

"Thank you," Sam said wryly.

Gillian grinned back. "I aim to please. Let's see...oh yeah, you've also got a few band-aids and a little bottle of spray stuff for minor injuries, and a travel pack of wipes. I also put some really _nice_ chocolates in here for your out-of-town kids, in case one of the Terrors steals their candy. Watch Tenji especially if anyone gives out Mochi-Choco, he's addicted to it. And, I think that's everything."

Samuel took the small paper sack, eyeing it with new respect. "All that fit in _here?_"

"Spooky, huh?" Gillian looked up for a second, thinking, then nodded. "Last instruction—really, I promise—if you run out of anything, I've got spares; I'll be helping Masae, so Tracey can run down here to the store to get them." She gave the boy a smile that was just a shade more friendly than it had to be.

"Sure," Tracey said, not picking up on it. "Thanks, Gill."

"Yes, thank you," Samuel said, amused at his normally observant assistant. Had his younger self been that oblivious to subtle bits of flirting when he was Tracey's age? No doubt, no doubt.

"No, thank _you_—both of you, and Mrs. Ketchum—she's with you guys, right? I know this is a lot to handle; just try to stay sane, and remind them that bad Triplets get their candy taken away by mean big sisters, who will eat it slowly in front of them and laugh." She took a breath. "So, okay, yeah. I'm gonna go check with Mom and get the Three Beasts ready, but go see Masae, she's got your map and stuff." She fidgeted with one tail for a second, then took a breath. "And, um, by the way, Tracey..." she ducked her head, and said quietly, "...nice abs on you too." Then she turned away and walked off, as fast as she could.

As she passed in front of him, though, Professor Oak could see her cheeks lit with a blush just as fierce as Tracey recently sported.

Tracey was not blushing now, however. He was staring at the same space Gillian had just occupied, a stunned look on his face. He blinked once, then slowly turned to his mentor. "Um..." He gave his head a quick, sharp shake. "Uh. Uh, yeah." A pause. "...yeah." A shred of a dazed grin began to form, and the belated blush appeared.

Samuel kept his amusement to himself. He clapped his assistant lightly on the shoulder, and said, "Come along, chum. The night waits, and that candy won't collect itself."

It seemed (in his limited experience) to be a very Tick-like thing to say; and apparently, given his startled bark of laughter, Tracey agreed.

Samuel led his sidekick onward, his antenna-adorned head held high. Perhaps he was getting the hang of this hero thing, after all.

* * *

"Professor Oak!" came an aged female voice as they entered the market. "What a wonderful costume!"

Samuel turned to greet Masae, and stopped when he saw _her_ costume. Ever since the older woman had taken over Pallet's local radio station, she'd fancied herself a hip-hop DJ; Samuel could only assume her outfit was some variation on that theme. The older woman's short, curly grey hair had been straightened to a smooth bob and dyed electric blue; with a black military-style peaked cap, sunglasses, and a shirt like a shattered silver mirror, she was certainly a noticeable figure, despite the fact that she was barely as tall as Tracey's shoulder.

"Don't you two look wonderful?" Masae said (though how she could see them through those sunglasses, Samuel had no idea). "It's good to see another adult in costume, most of our townsfolk are such fuddy-duddies, aren't they, Professor?" She elbowed him in the ribs, a sharp jab that even his foam-rubber muscles couldn't entirely cushion. "Anyway, I'm glad to see the two of you, we missed you the last couple years, glad you could join in! And Tracey, finally getting to see Pallet Town celebrate, eh?" Masae cackled loudly, and Samuel reflected that she ought to have dressed as a witch—she had the laugh for it. "We may be small town, but we do love to party! Go on, young man, help yourself to some candy corn, that's what the bowl's there for! So what do you two superheroes think of my costume? Did I pull it off?"

"Very fetching," Samuel said carefully.

"You look really good, Masae," added Tracey, though Samuel could tell from his expression that he had no more idea who she was dressed as than Samuel did. The boy wasn't exactly on the cutting edge of youth culture—he was a Poké-nerd, like his boss.

"Your decorations look wonderful, too," Samuel added, covering up their mutual ignorance with flattery. "Your efforts as festival organizer have done real wonders."

Masae waved a bony hand in mock-shyness. "Oh, go on! Do you like the pumpkins, then? I carved a few of them—don't they look spooky with those candles inside? Halloween is certainly a vegetable seller's dream—I think I've sold enough gourds today to satisfy a Snorlax!" Again, the cackling laugh. "Speaking of which, Gary and little Ash both have Snorlax they keep at your lab, don't they? I'll put you down for a shipment of these babies at discount tomorrow," she slapped a fat pumpkin with one hand, making a resounding _thump_. "No sense wasting food with hungry Pokemon around, is there?"

"No, indeed," said Samuel, wondering when Delia was getting back. She was so much better at this "small talk" thing than he was...

Masae leaned in conspiratorially. "Anyway, Professor, thanks for helping with the escort duties, those out-of-town parents are just _awful_, dropping off their kids and not pitching in! Sorry for saddling you with those three little scamps, but their mother is hosting the toddlers' party at the town hall, and Gillian's helping Mama Masae run things here at Halloween Headquarters. Such a helpful young woman, and so pretty, too. She'll make someone a lovely wife someday—don't _you_ think, Tracey?" And she gave him a sly wink.

Tracey choked on a piece of candy corn.

"Oh! Goodness me, I didn't mean to startle you! Shame on me!" Masae giggled like a girl, though in her coarse voice it _still_ sounded like a cackle.

Samuel, suspecting Masae had, in fact, meant it, sighed and whacked his assistant just above the wing apparatus. Since young Gilbert had opened his eyes, Samuel had realized that Masae really did have the biggest mouth in Pallet Town; and that he had been casually discussing the details of his personal life with the town gossip for years now.

_Forget being oblivious at Tracey's age_, Samuel thought. _I never grew out of it_.

"Thanks," Tracey muttered to Samuel, now so red-faced he could have passed for someone in devil makeup. Against the white of his Arthur costume, it had the unfortunate effect of a tomato in a snowbank.

Hoping to spare Tracey more of Masae's "subtle" inquiry, Samuel said, "Well, we'd best get going. Besides, I think someone's interested in your Pocky special."

"Oh, right you are," Masae said smartly. She handed them a folded paper and three round orange pins. "Now, here's your badges, one of these is for Mrs. Ketchum of course, and your map with all the houses that signed up for the Trick or Treat. We marked you out a route that will keep you away from most of the other parties, to limit the trouble the Triplets can cause with other kids. I've already threatened to humiliate them publically for the next week if they act up too much, but you know kids these days—they'd probably just brag about it on their blogs."

Six year olds had blogs? Well, it wouldn't surprise him, Samuel thought.

"And here are the names and ages of your other three. They're all waiting over by the town hall." Masae turned away to take care of the other customers.

Samuel motioned Tracey out of the back door and followed him, glancing at the list in his hand. Two girls, nine years and five years, and a four-year-old boy. "At least we have one older girl," Samuel said. "Perhaps she can watch the other two, leaving the three of us to wrangle the Triplets."

Tracey nodded as he went down the back steps, then set a course for the Town Hall, through a small stand of trees. Samuel took the three wooden stairs more carefully; the two-inch wooden soles Tracey had added to his footwear felt steady enough, but the stairs were a little steep, and he wasn't going to take any chances. But it left him a little behind his assistant. The uneven ground didn't help either—Samuel had to keep an eye on it, lest he find out again about Gravity's unrelenting nature.

But when he heard Tracey's startled yelp ahead, he looked up.

There were people in the small copse—a handful of tall figures, dark against the lights beyond the trees. Tracey's white-clad form was dwarfed by them, and there was something threatening in the way they were closing in on him...

Professor Oak swallowed his unease. _Don't be silly, Samuel. You're letting this 'hero' thing go to your head._ This was Pallet Town, not Veridian City. The only trouble they got around here was when those Rocket agents came by, but a Halloween festival was not exactly promising territory for Pokemon-theft. It was probably just some of the other parents, looking for information.

Then one of them grabbed a fistful of Tracey's costume, and shoved him into a tree-trunk.

With a surge of alarm, Samuel hurried forward.

Until a hand appeared in front of him, causing Samuel to stop by reflex as a tall form stepped into his path.

Well, tall was relative. Samuel discovered that his new and improved height had an advantage as the boy who emerged from behind the first tree trunk blinked and looked up, obviously startled.

Professor Oak recognized him at once. "Jeffrey..?"

Jeffrey's eyes widened even more. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

Keeping an eye on the goings-on ahead—so far, aside from the shove, Tracey was unmolested—Samuel said softly, "I'm honestly surprised, Jeff. I thought you were one of Tracey's friends." Jeff was the boy who did the yard work around the Lab, and he and Tracey sometimes played videogames together.

Jeff looked down. "Th-they're just talkin..."

Jeff's fearful tone said other things, though, about what might happen if the "talk" didn't go well.

Samuel knew who he was dealing with now. He gave Jeffrey a wordless command to stay right where he was and say nothing, and stepped quietly forward to the edge of the group around Tracey.

The leader was standing mere inches from Tracey, who was still backed against the tree. The hulking, sandy-haired boy who faced him had his arms crossed casually, but the implied threat of his too-close position and far larger size was clear.

"...see my dilemma, can't you, Sketchit?" the boy said with a carefully neutral tone.

Tracey, intimidated but angry enough to ignore it, looked evenly up at him. "Does she know about it, Russ?"

"Haven't asked her yet," Russ said with a smug little smile. "I'd just like to avoid any..." he reached out, brushed an imaginary speck from Tracey's collarbone, "...untoward altercations before things get settled, you know what I mean?" He smirked. "I always prefer the peaceful solution."

"How commendable of you, Russell," Samuel said in his driest voice. "That's a very mature attitude to take."

The effect on Russ and his friends was as electric as one of Pikachu's Thundershocks. They jumped to face him in shock, and Russ immediately stepped back out of Tracey's personal space and turned and gave Samuel a friendly grin. "Oh, hi, Professor Oak," he said, trying for blandness, but betrayed by the slightly higher pitch of his voice. His nanosecond's poisonous glance at Jeffrey likewise belied his nonchalance. His eyes roved over Samuel's costume in a bewildered way, but he managed to recover quickly. "It's a great festival this year, isn't it, Professor? Nice costume, by the way."

"Thank you," Samuel said, smiling pleasantly. None of Russell's group were in costume, nor did they have the orange badges of volunteers. Obviously they had very little interest in the festival, though they'd no doubt show up at the participating houses later, trick-or-treating to get whatever treats were left...or subject people to a trick, like an egged front door or a pushed-over garden shed.

They were traditionalists that way.

But if Russell wanted to play it casual, Samuel could match him. "Quite a lot of people this year, eh? Say, I think they could use a few more volunteers; you fellows might be a help."

"Heck, I'm no good with kids," Russ said with a creditable aww-shucks grin, taking a step backward. His cronies took the cue and started edging back with him (Jeffrey had sidled over to Russ's side while they exchanged pleasantries). "But I hear there are still spots on the clean-up detail...I just might lend a hand there. I'm pretty good at—cleaning up." His eyes darted toward Tracey for the briefest moment.

"Wonderful!" Samuel said. "I'll be sure to tell Masae you'll be there. Thank you, Russell—you too, Edgar, Hino, Ken...Jeffrey. She'll no doubt thank you herself on her morning show." Or publically twit them for being no-shows.

Russell's grin became a tad sickly, but he gave Tracey another glance that suggested someone was going to pay for this change in his plans. "Yeah. Hmm, well, better get going. Good evening, Professor. Trace." His casual air slipped on that last word.

"Good evening to you too," Samuel said, planning to nip that in the bud. "And please give my regards to your parents. All of you," he added, glancing at the group. "I'm sure I'll see most of them at the Christmas planning meeting next week, but do wish them Happy Halloween for me, won't you?"

Russ froze—trumped at last. "Sure will, Prof," he said, with hardly the hint of a sour note. He quickly turned, and he and his entourage made their escape.

Tracey's breath came out as he finally stepped away from the tree trunk. "Thank you, Professor." He glared in the direction the boys had taken.

Samuel was surprised to find his own body shaking a little. Well, it had been a tense little scene, and might have gone badly. Luckily, although he was (as Gilbert pointed out) not very good with people as a rule, Samuel's role as mentor to most of the Pallet Town Pokemon trainers made him a bit better with _young_ people. Even young troublemakers like Russ, who was taller than Samuel still, despite the two-inch platform boots.

"So, to what do we owe the honor of Russell's little visit?" Samuel said, brushing treebark off Tracey's wings.

"He saw me talking to Gillian," Tracey said tightly. "Apparently he's decided she's his personal property or something."

"The fact that she's one of the only pretty teenage girls left in town, of course, has nothing to do with it," Samuel said. Russell had been similarly possessive toward Mae, he remembered, who was generally acknowledged as the town beauty, before she left for school.

"She can't _stand_ him," Tracey said, and it took Samuel a moment to figure out he was talking about Gillian, not Mae (it was an equally accurate statement, in either case). "She said he couldn't even be bothered to talk to her before the other girls went off to school or on their journeys," Tracey added. "She wouldn't go out with Russ on a bet."

"So now he's trying the time-honored ploy of scaring off the competition," Samuel guessed. Charming.

"I don't care if I am scared of him, I'm not going to let him tell Gillian who she can and can't talk to," Tracey said fiercely.

Samuel nodded. "I'm glad to hear it." Although his young assistant was usually reserved and easy-going, he was by no means a coward. "But do be careful—I doubt my warning will daunt him for more than this evening." Russell had never been overly respectful of anyone who wasn't a clear and present danger to him, emphasis on "present."

"Oh, don't worry," Tracey said with a grin, "You know me—I was born careful. But we better get going, Professor—there's Mrs. Ketchum, heading for the Town Hall."

Ah, that was a much more pleasant thought than musings about the town bullies. "Someone must have told her the 'good' news about the Tahara triplets," Samuel said, and sighed. "Come on, Tracey, we should catch up with her before she gets there..." he deepened his voice to Tick-like tones, "...true heroes never let a lady face danger alone."

"Right with you, Tick," Tracey said, his voice going slightly higher and more nasal.

Ever the loyal sidekick, Tracey was. His dressing as Arthur was pure typecasting. Samuel grinned, and was inspired to a bit of Tick-ish extemporanea. "Onward, then, and let the hammer of justice fall hard upon the nail-heads of those who would lead our charges astray this All Hallow's Eve."

Again, Tracey's laughter let him know he was at least close in his impersonation.

Samuel smiled. Maybe this Halloween thing was easier than he thought.

Now he just had to survive the Tahara triplets on a sugar high...

Samuel led the way into the night.

* * *

_Author's note: I tried to mix Japanese details into my (necessarily) American memories of Halloween. The Japanese apparently love Halloween, but don't ordinarily trick-or-treat or carve pumpkins, so I came up with rationales to include these quintessential American Halloween rituals. Oh, and Masae (the old woman from the HoSo/Chronicles episode "Journey to the Starting Line") is dressed as M.I.A., aka "Maya" Arulpragasam, a British rapper/artist/music director/woman of multiple talents. Seemed appropriate for a rappin' granny. As for Mae Oak, I started spelling her name "Mae" in my own writings to differentiate her from the anime May.  
_

_Oh, and because I forgot to mention it before..._**I don't own Pokemon in any way, shape, or form**_ (but if someone wants to give it to me, they're more than welcome)._

_I may not get the next chapter done before this Halloween...but at least I made it with this one!  
_


End file.
